


Show You Something Good

by esteefee



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Ancient Devices, Dildos, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-09 00:15:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1961622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney wants to show John something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show You Something Good

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by [Mischief](http://mischief5.livejournal.com).

This was weird. 

Not that sex couldn't be weird, because John was a freewheeling guy, no matter what Rodney said—John wasn't a prude, or a stick in the mud, or whatever—but this definitely fit the definition of weird.

John liked what they'd been doing. Nothing wrong with it, going for it hot and heavy, his hand on Rodney's dick firm and tight, knowing just what he liked, and Rodney's mouth was wide and clever and just as fast and slick as John might have suspected all along. Had suspected. Had thought about, a lot, too damned much, really, when he wasn't thinking about not dying or not letting his people get killed or kidnapped.

But this was really weird.

"What the hell are you doing back there?" Something warm and smooth was tracing lines up his spine, and John wanted to roll over and just grab Rodney and make out and jerk him off and stop playing around already, but he'd promised. Words like "chicken-shit" and "wimp" were used, and also, Rodney had called him "unimaginative," which was pure defamation. John could imagine all sorts of things he'd like to do to Rodney's dick with his tongue, all kinds of sounds Rodney would make, including those high ones in the back of his throat, if he hadn't challenged John to just "lie there and let the artist work."

There was a sound, a click, with a hum—Ancient, John recognized it instantly—and he stiffened, on alert.

"What the fuck? Is that Ancient tech?"

"Completely harmless," Rodney said confidently. "Trust me."

"Yeah, I do," John croaked after a moment, stuffing his heated face against the pillow.

He felt Rodney's hands stop, heard Rodney's breath stutter, so he got it, although of course John trusted him; he wouldn't have gotten in the sack with Rodney to begin with if he didn't, wouldn't have kissed him to begin with, because that was dangerous enough—like kissing a nuke—and no way would he be lying here letting him use an Ancient doohickey—

"Of course, I also remember the time that toaster blew up in my face," John had to wisecrack.

"It wasn't a toaster."

"Well, duh."

Rodney pressed the end of the whatever-it-was against John's shoulder. It was hard and warm and slick with something that smelled like artificial coconut oil. John twitched, and Rodney heaved out a huge sigh.

"It's just the Ancient version of Japanese hot stones. For massages. Honestly, you'd think I was trying to torture you."

John humphed into the pillow. This wasn't torture. He knew from torture, and he had to admit this felt pretty good, especially when Rodney slid it over an old bullet wound beneath his shoulder blade. He groaned softly.

"There you go," Rodney said.

It was still weird though. 

John wasn't unimaginative. He'd never had any complaints. He'd once made Nancy come four times in one night; at least, he was pretty sure it was four. She'd never stopped moaning the whole time, and she kept twitching around his fingers. At one point, he'd practically been chewing on her and she'd been screaming, _Yes, Johnny, yes!_

This was just lying here while Rodney made happy sounds and traced an oily line up one side of John's spine, bump-bump-bump, the firm, slightly pointy, slick stone-thing worming its way along the muscles of John's vertebra. It felt incredible, especially when Rodney reached the top and dug it into his neck.

He might've whimpered.

"Ah-ha," Rodney said.

This, however, wasn't sex like John thought of it, and especially not when Rodney started rubbing the thing smoothly over the heavy scar under his bottom left rib, the place that ached when he sat in meetings too long.

"This is utterly ridiculous," Rodney said, his voice now almost angry. "You just—I can't believe how you let them—"

It was a statement out of left field, but then most of Rodney's were. John didn't let anybody do anything to him, and he owned most of the damage he'd done to himself. Sure, the feeding scars were Todd's—or Kolya's, really—and the harpoon one, too, come to think of it. Bastard. But John owned them, anyway, because he could have chosen a different life, or a different tree to climb—that was the surgery scar Rodney was tracing now, and John smiled to himself remembering his dad's outraged expression when John came home, his arm tucked carefully into a makeshift sling made out of his hoodie.

Maybe Rodney thought his scars were sexy or something, which was a strange thought, but he was spending an awful lot of time on them. John shifted uncomfortably, about to say something, when he felt Rodney lean closer, warmth and weight pressing against his legs, and then Rodney's mouth unexpectedly brushed his bare ass.

"Wha—!"

Rodney chuckled and then bit down.

"Jeez! McKay..."

"I know, I know—no marks. Except the ones you're apparently willing to get from everyone else," Rodney muttered, his cheek rasping against the tender skin of John's ass. 

"It's not that. You're—that's my ass," John mumbled, feeling his ears heat up, and Rodney muttered something about vanilla Air Force colonels and the military ruining him for any really good sex.

"You're full of shit. If you'd let me turn over, I'd show you something good." This non-participation thing was starting to get to him.

Rodney bit him again.

"Ow! Quit it." Goose bumps shivered up John's spine.

And then Rodney licked him where he'd bitten him. The goose bumps turned into goose boulders, and John tensed a little, thinking, _What? No way,_ except yes, way-way, holy Jesus—because Rodney's hands were spreading John open, and then Rodney's tongue, his wet, soft tongue—

John's mouth made a sound. A sound he absolutely had not given it permission to make.

Rodney hummed in approval, and John felt it, felt it shiver and multiply.

"Holy fuck, Rodney," John gasped. Rodney did the thing with his tongue again, this time pushing in a little, making John's brain spin in disbelief. Also, his dick jumped.

Rodney chuckled and reached under him to start squeezing his cock.

"Motherfucker," John said. Or tried to. Really, he was too busy groaning into the pillow at this point, and that was when he heard that ominous clicking noise again, then the hum of the Ancient stone, and he had about a second to anticipate it before—

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

—Rodney pushed the slick tip, humming and throbbing, right up against John's hole. John's hips jerked and his cock spurted a little and Rodney pushed it in harder, still stroking his cock, and then John bit the corner of his pillow and came all over Rodney's hand.

John saw stars. Stars and big black globs filled his field of vision, which faded after a while into blurry blue when he finally opened his eyes again and found Rodney smirking at him from a couple of inches away.

"You total bastard," John said, grinning, feeling strangely loose.

"I am an artist," Rodney said smugly, practically buffing his nails.

Right. Well, John had had enough of this lying around shit. He grabbed Rodney and rolled him to his back, enjoying the resulting squawk of surprise and wide-eyed consternation. John had to ruffle his hair for that, and evaded the return swat with ease of practice.

Digging around in the sheets, John came up with the tube of Rodney's sunscreen and the Ancient stone, which turned out to be bright blue like a robin's egg and much bigger at the base than he'd realized.

"Ah-ha," John said and applied some of the sunscreen to the stone. Rodney's eyes narrowed, and John grinned. "So, let me see if I can figure out how this doohickey works."

"John..." Rodney said warningly, but John had already lunged down to suck on Rodney's cock, and Rodney was too busy moaning in disbelief to finish his thought.

John wondered if he could beat his previous record. Couldn't hurt to try.

"I'm not much of an artist, Rodney. But I know what I like."

Rodney never stopped moaning.

 

_End._


End file.
